“Get out of here, Jackson. To the ERP!” Dalton ordered. “Everyone, to the ERP!”
Dalton turned back toward the smashed cargo car. He could see mercenaries climbing over it, placing charges on the steel doors. Dalton fired, cutting down the demolition men.
Another scream. Dalton looked over his shoulder. The Chyort had Captain Anderson’s avatar over his head, ripped it into two pieces at the waist. Chyort threw one piece in each direction, the parts fading as they tumbled to the ground.
The Chyort leapt into the air, spreading its leathery wings, and headed straight for Dalton.
Dalton jumped into virtual space. The Chyort was there also, still coming. Dalton jumped fifty meters left. It gained him a half second as Chyort pivoted on its wings.
Dalton jumped to the ERP, hoping he would lose Chyort in the process.
Raisor was completely in the real world, a ghostly white form above the limousine. Another quarter mile and they would be there.
Leksi yelled orders to his surviving and shocked men. The demon flashed out of sight, which made his job a little easier. He directed men to finish placing the charges. Using the radio, he ordered forward the lift helicopters and also learned of the destruction of his gunships.
There was a quick snap of plastique firing. Leksi climbed up on the cargo car. Scattered on the down side of the car lay twenty plastic cases.
“Get them out!”
Dalton knelt next to Barnes. Trilly was standing to the side, nothing apparently wrong with him.
“I can’t move, Sergeant Major,” Barnes whispered. “I jumped here, but I can’t do anything more.”
“I’ll get you back,” Dalton promised. “Hammond! Where the hell are you?”
Lieutenant Jackson was circling overhead, keeping an eye out, flashing in and out of reality as she checked both the real and virtual plane.
There was no one else. Five gone. Half the team was wiped out. Dalton thought of Lang Vei, the tanks rolling through the wire, then banished that nightmare from his mind.
“Jackson,” he said, reaching up with his mind.
“Yes?”
“Can I take Barnes back somehow?”
“I don’t know.”
“Give me a suggestion,” Dalton said. “You ’re the expert.”
“Try to meld into his psyche. Attach him to you emotionally. That might allow you to take him into the virtual plane and back.”
Dalton reached down, cradling Barnes’s avatar in his arms. He was concerned to see the form fade from view slightly before coming back.
“I’m going,” Trilly said.
“No, you’re not,” Dalton said. “You ’re a soldier, and a sergeant. You stay here with us and we all leave together.”
Dalton didn’t have time to worry about Trilly, or the energy to stop him from running. A voice echoed inside his head.
“This is Hammond. I can’t keep Sybyl on track for both locations.”
“Where is Raisor?”
“I don’t know.”
Dalton thought she was lying, but this wasn’t the time for it. “Cut his power and concentrate on my team. Get us out of here. Then you can bring him back on line.”
“But— ”
“Do it!” Dalton turned his attention to the form in his arms. “You’re coming back with me,” Dalton said. “You’re coming back with me, Barnes. You understand?”
Barnes’s avatar weakly nodded.
“But if I— ” Hammond’s voice wavered.
“Do it!” Dalton screamed with the power he had. “We’re dying here. Most of my team is already dead.”
“All right,” Hammond said. “I’m focusing power on your team.”
The Ellipse, the lights of the White House just beyond, appeared to the right. Raisor landed on the roof of the limo with a solid thump that could be heard inside. He knew bodyguards would be reacting, but it was too late. His right arm switched from wing to six-foot-long blade. He poised it above the roof directly above where he knew his target was sitting. He relished the feeling, the anticipation of payback, and then began to thrust the arm down, when his form vanished and he was in darkness.
He screamed, his anger and frustration echoing into the virtual plane.
Dalton focused as he had in the hospital room with Marie. A myriad of emotions raced through him like a fast-moving stream of quickly varying temperatures. “Dalton!” Jackson screamed.
Dalton looked up as Chyort materialized in front of him. Dalton stared into the dark red eyes.
“Who are you?” Dalton demanded.
The demon took a step forward and Dalton felt the earth shake beneath him. He turned, putting himself between the demon and the body in his arms.
Dalton closed his eyes and focused only on Barnes. Dalton felt pain slice into his back. He focused on the isolation tanks in Bright Gate as he took a glance over his shoulder. A form came leaping between him and Chyort. Trilly!
Dalton jumped, Barnes with him.
Chapter Twenty-one
Feteror hesitated. He looked down at his right hand. The claws had torn into the American’s back, going in over six inches, yet the man had ignored the pain and jumped. The other American who had jumped between them had died with one slice, the head neatly separated.
Feteror knew he could follow the Americans into their hole in the Rocky Mountains. He felt he now had the power to break through their psychic fence. Like a wolf among the sheep, he could rip them to shreds.
He turned and looked back toward the east, where the battle had occurred. With regret, Feteror jumped back.
He came into reality on top of the wreckage of the cargo car, scaring the wits out of the men pulling the bombs out.
Leksi yelled, telling the men to keep working, to ignore the demon. Then the naval commando climbed up to face Feteror.
“You were late,” Leksi said. “Who were the others? The ones who fight like you?”
“Americans.” Feteror liked the way his demon voice sounded, like boulders rubbing together, underlaid with the treble of the screams of the damned. “And I was not late. This was your job, not mine.”
“And I will finish it if you would stop frightening my men.”
Feteror snapped into the virtual plane.
Barsk kept a safe distance from the men reeling the thick black cables.
“Are you ready yet?” he demanded of the scientist.
Vasilev sighed and looked up from the computer terminal he’d been working at for the past hour. “This program was written for top-of-the-line computers in 1963. Computers have come a long way since then. This was upgraded several years ago but it is still out of date. I am trying to integrate the old software with the new hardware, but it is difficult.”
“I don’t want to hear excuses,” Barsk said.
“I’m not giving you excuses,” Vasilev replied. “I am telling you what is happening.” He ran a trembling hand through his gray hair. “I can assure you I want this to work more than you do. It will put an end to the nightmare my life has been.”
“Then get it working,” Barsk snapped. “I’m beginning to— ” He halted as he felt a wash of cold through his stomach. He turned.